


The Scorpion And The Bird

by TocaMorirLento



Category: Original Work, Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Character Development, Death, F/F, Give it a try, Gore, Happy Ending, Journey, Justice, Killing, Kinda horror?, Kinda sci-fi, Manhunt - Freeform, Revenge, Slow Build, Suspense, Tragic Romance, Transformation, a house - Freeform, it‘ll make sense at the end, killer, mind, see the bigger picture, think, vangeance - Freeform, weird but good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TocaMorirLento/pseuds/TocaMorirLento
Summary: It’s a story about a woman seeking revenge. But nothing is as it seems.The one where Maca seeks revenge.Dive in and enjoy the ride.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18





	1. Do penance or perish

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dear party people.  
> Here is a new story for y‘all.  
> The Scorpion and the Bird.  
> Enjoy.
> 
> Mark 1:12  
> And straight away the Spirit sent him out into the wasteland.

There was a reoccurring dream Maca had. Every night she dreamed of that fateful night months ago. The night where they had finally parted their ways.

One finding its path towards the future and one stayed put. Frozen in time.

In her dream she found herself in a wasteland. She had to stride through it until she reached a sacred place where there was no sound at all. 

For the first time in a long time she was surrounded by complete silence. Amid a desert.

Far away from anything she stood in a steady stance. Head looking up towards the gloomy sky. Taking in the surreal moment she had found herself in. Her eyes shut. In an attempt to distancing herself from reality. 

_ Was this really a dream? _

It was but a mere feeling she had. That made her question it. A feeling, proved to be justified when the sky broke open. 

Without mercy it started pouring, it’s acidic tears onto her. The sky it seem, had reason to mourn too.

Not so long ago, there had been a time where the blond had loved to play with fire. It was an dangerously addicting game. And she had never been burned. But acid was no fire. And being touched by it. By something so mundane, so agressively without consent. Was even worse than the agony she had suffered throughout her entire life. 

_Hurt_ , she thought, it was an all known fact, _could not be experienced in a dream._ And it dawned on her then, as the rain was burning her skin. That this was no dream at all. 

With that revelation black streams of poisonous tears spilled over. Befouling her whole being. If this was not a dream, she was right on the path of truths.

Her feet, walking on their own, had brought the woman back to a place she had tried to push aside. A days time had past since she’d last been there. Certainly, not more than that. But what really was time? It held no importance just then. The point was something different. The womans return. Maca had returned with intent to transform. And that was precisely what she did.

Her skin, once covered with dried blood, was washed clean. Right there she repent.

Relieving herself of a heavy burden she‘d been carrying around for too long. Lastly, of those torments of Tantalus. No matter what she would do Zulema would remain out of reach. 

Yet, by shedding her old skin, that was drenched with blood, weakened by her sorrow, a new one was revealed. One restored by hope. Courage even.

The burning rain had caused crimson drops to creep down her arms, over her hands, smoothly finding its way down to her calves. Soaking through the white linen now imprisoning her silhouette. Then, at the end of her calves the purpure drops merged into angry streams that formed a blazing red puddle to her feet.

Not daring to open her eyes just yet, she remained in that position. Afraid she would see the damage. An irriversable tragedy.

And although aware of the inevitable. That there must soon, come a time where she eventually had to look. She didn‘t. 

Instead of looking down though she lost her gazein the distance. Not too far, nor too close. There, her eyes caught something else.

A little scorpion made it’s way towards the dead body that lay not far from her feet. Her torments of tantalus. There in the form of a scorpion yet out of reach. The body a reminder of that. Death, she knew, is definite.

There was a small clattering sound emerging from the scorpion’s legs. She found it had a melody to it. Listening closely, focusing hard on it, she could make out that familiar lullaby she had heard so often, back in prison.

The scorpion paused. The melody fell silent. And it seemed like the scorpion raised its head a tat to catch the woman’s eyes. She wasn‘t sure if it was a play of her mind or real, but he tilted his head ever so slightly in an acknowledging nod. Then it‘s legs continued walking summoning the melody anew.

The woman too, turned her attention back to mind her own business. Finally, allowing her eyes to drift down to the skirt of her dress. Suddenly she was finding her own voice singing the familiar song. 

„ _Yallah yallah Habibi,_

_yallah yallah tenam._ “ 

Calming her down. It felt like a warm motherly hug. Spending her some sort of security.

Macas eyes couldn’t let go. She froze, her singing continuesly picking up speed. Eventually dropping to her knees. Still holding up the hem of her dress. 

Confronted, with the smudged, by now pink, residue of blood.

The melody kept on increasing, speeding up even more. 

It was the blood of a good fellow. Pink and angry. 

She screamed the lyrics of the song.

“ _YALLAH YALLAH HABIBI YALLAH YALLA TENAM“_

And all of a sudden the melody hushed. It ceased to exist. So did she. 

Suddenly the world was quite again. Too quite. Her knees rose from the soil and so the rest of her body followed. Her gaze stuck on her blood smeared hands. But only for a second. 

Quickly she got a hold of herself. There was no time for hard feelings, that would blur her capacity to act. Determined to implement her intentions she turned around and started to run.

Hellbent, to seek revenge on those who were responsible for all the suffering they had caused. She made herself a promise. She’d hunt them down, one by one, until their end of days. 

And as she was running, morning arose, leaving behind the heavy air, she ran into a new day. Fraught with a new hope.


	2. A place of refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psalm 61:3  
> For You have been a refuge for me,  
> A tower of strength against the enemy

The house stood dark and steady in it‘s place. At ground level. Devious since centuries. Ready to be found by those in need. And it would soon give a home to the blonde. A place to prepare for her battles to come.

But for now, it stood there and waited. And it would stand there for another thousand years. Still and patient.

Even though unable to explain how this refuge could exist for such a long time, rather exist at all, it had lain it‘s roots deep into the frowsty soil. Sure and not to be moved.

Within its walls something lingered. Something evil. Build from blazeing stones. Stories, that had been maisoned brick by brick.

With the devil within it‘s insides, it resembled a labyrinth. Inaccessable and treachourus for the rest of the world. It‘s windows milky through the course of time, locking away its insides for eternity.  
Closed of for the citizens that wander among that lonely world. But not for those seeking. 

It‘s floors, marked by the traces of not only its past present an future, but also by the many souls that had never found their way out of there. Their souls, so has it been told, still strode throughout the narrow crimson colored pathways of this house. Damned, to burn in the blazeing heat of their own purgatory, to do penance for their sins, for eternity. Kept inside only by the houses thick portal doors. The only way in and out.

It’s outsides were sourrounded by nothing but wasteland. The same wasteland that woman had stood in. A wasteland, the result of the grey societys ignorant ways of living. Mud, frowsty, vermin and one single skelleton of a dead tree, were the only signs of a long gone civilisaion.

And still, despite the seemingly impossible, that in such a place, one could find something of human descentent, there was indeed something to find in such an apocalyptic place.

Far away from the house, far away from any kind of civilisation in fact, there stood someone in the rain. Their head looking up, arms outspread. Not knowing of the house’s existence nor that it shadowed over her from afar. It was the woman. 

The woman had screamed then she ran. Driven by some supernatural force. An magnetic pull towards the house that couldn’t be explained. Guided her towards it. 

And then, not too far away from the fassade of the house, the girl had stopped. 

She felt the darkness the house radiated, stalking her. Trying to get in. Invade her mind, body and soul. The blond knew, she could feel it. Even see it, as she was takeing in the lower wallings. Feeling the darkness stalking her. Yet she gave in. Walked towards it. Unafraid, willing even, to grand that feeling entrance into her mind, body and soul.

And the house acclaimed her her. She was so clean, as she had just done penance. 

And the house meant ill on her. No, that wasn‘t quite it. Far more would the house strengthen her own intentions. And those were of foul deed.

The moment the fair haired woman had set her foot over the threshold, the house had a lock on her. 

It had waited for so long, ready for a new fighter, to whom it could open up its portal doors, that when she finally entered the house let go. It flooded her body with a new strength. 

And while her eyes had never been the brightest among those she knew, they now had something of the night. Her eyes had turned to a darker shade. 

There was a frown now that made one uneasy. But it showed herself all the secrets of the world she lived in. 

Maca strode through the long pathways of the house. Her eyes guideing her deeper and deeper into the delusive blood soaked passageways of the house. Further and further into the labyrinthine walls to her room. The very heart of the house.

Her room was as dark as her frown, with windows so dirty, they appeared to be blind eyes, that were left out to see the outside world. But the milky form of them allowed Maca not to be distracted. Here she would be able to prepare for her fight.Undisturbed.

The woman crossed her room. From outside she could hear the rain again. 

Whom was the sky mourning for this time? She wondered. But perhaps, she realized, it was for her lost soul.

Her dress was still wet from before although the linen had now turned to a faded rosa. It didn‘t bother her anymore. She‘d already moved on. What had happend was in the past, and the past, can‘t be changed. That too, was a definite thing. So why dwell on it.

She had reached her bed. Needed to rest. So she lay down on it. And she would sleep. And soon enough she lost herself in dead dreams. Tomorrow she‘d seek revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🤔 where do we go from here?


	3. Sense and sensibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> proverbs 18  
> 3 When a wicked person comes, contempt also comes, and along with dishonor, derision.  
> 5 It is not good to show partiality to the guilty, denying an innocent person justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always,  
> thank you for reading 💕 and sorry for any spelling mistakes:(

Although, her dreams had seemed dead at first glimpse they were not. And for the first time she found herself to be tucked away into a vision.

That place in her mind, her dream, was sourrounded by a blinding whiteness. If she pricked up her ears, she could even make out a monotounus humming.

There was nothing there besides the skelleton of that tree she had passed on her way to the house. The only reminder of the real world.

Next to it, and that‘s how she knew that it was a dream, there was a well. Filled to the brim with a flat body of black water.

Its blackness had a magnetic pull to it. She was fixated on. Her feet walked towards it on their own account. Bringing her forth. Step by step.

With every step she took the humming changed. It turned into a clattering melody. She knew all to well. And her vocal chords started to chime in, without her consent, produceing and angelic duette.

_“yallah yallah habibi.....yallah yallah te...“_

Suddenly, her voice fell silent. With a yank of her muscles contracting she snapped out of this odd trance she had been locked in.

Her attention had fallen upon a little creature that was seated on the other side of the wells rim. There it was. The scorpion had returned to her. In fact, its marble like eyes were filled with expectance, focussed on her.

She could see her own reflection in its eyes. And it was as if the longer she looked the bigger the scorpion grew in size. Until it finally towered over her.

Yet she felt no fear only a calming warmth that was spreading through her. Even, when it reached its pincers out clawing for her, she felt nothing at all. She was at ease. Actually, even as the scorpion had gotten a hold of her, in order to throw her into the trechearous water, she let herself be swolled. Gladly, adapting to its coldness. Makeing, no defensing tries to keep her afloat.

And so it was that she felt relief as her body fell deeper and deeper into the abyss. Until it had taken her entirely, into the claws of darkness.

Like many times before she was alone. But she felt at home amid the so familiar silence that held her hostage. To be frankly, she was unaccustomed to anything else but lonelyness. People had deceived the blond her entire lifetime. There had only been one that had done differently. One that had payed for it with the loss of her life. She gave her heart away for her blond.

Or rather it had been torn apart by the bullets Ramalas guys had fired into it.

_Her heart bursted due to the utmost kind of love there is. Maternal love. For once, she had not obeyed to her minds plans. But had followed her own hearts desire. Head over heart. But at what cost._

If we were to speak frankly, it seemed like, Zulema had turned Maca bad. Once filled by love she was now spilling over with spite. Evil was eating her away.

And now Maca was afraid that the love of her life‘s legacy was about to fade away entirely.

That, in the end, her sacrifice had been for nothing at all.

Just at that threat of though invaded her mind the vision changed again. 

At once she stood on a threshold. About to walk forward as a slim hand appeared out of the blackness that was still surrounding her. The index finger came closer and touched her forhead. Right between the eyes it pushed her backwards. Falling silently, she eventually landed, in the tearing open sea.

She was pulled away by the deafening sea into the deep running water, encircled by all kinds of creatures that tore on her. One worse than the other. All talking, screaming and pulling on her at the same time. After a while she saw, they were no fictional creatures. They were in fact, the lost souls of those she had lost. And those resposible for it. Some of them died in the hands of herself but the rest...The ones screaming the loudest. Those were the ones whom she had been seeking. In the distance away from the group she could make out a yellow piece of clothing. A face. Only it had no features. Maca realized. Zulema already started to fade away from her memories. Then nothing.

She’d been washed away by a big wave. It had flung her onto the shore. Washed away her deepest desire. 

There she lay then, on the wet grass. Mud by her feet. Regaining her breath.  
  


There was the sound of tiny scuttleing legs again. Her head tilted to the side searching for it. And indeed. The scorpion was back. One of it‘s little pincers pointed towards an old plate before it went on its path again.

Maca let her eyes roam around and her eyes fell upon a beknown name.

_Hotel El Oasis._

The second she had read it she awoke. It was as if she‘d been reborn.

The loss of her lover had taken a toll on her. Their story had brought them to a cross road with only two options. Give life or take it. Zule had taken her chance to make things right and gave her life for two. Now it was Macas turn to make it right. For her that meant takeing revenge for the death of her love.

 _Hotel El Oasis it is._ Back to where it all started. There she would corner her prey and rip them apart. Today she‘d strike. To make them pay for what they did. Or made Zulema do.

So Maca walked onto her very own path of demnation. Her eyes flareing with a dangerous lust to slay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment.  
> I love to read what you all think:)


	4. In absentia lucis, Tenebrae vincunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psalm 119:45   
> I will walk about in freedom, for I have sought out your precepts.

Very tranquil Maca awoke right as the first rays of sunshine reached the world. They would have lightened up her face, if there hadn‘t been the houses blank windows encapsulateing her from the outside.

Instead, she roused by the house. Just to be met by her dull room.

The house itself was uneasy. Everywhere the wood cracked. Little insects roamed around and doorhinges squeaked.

The Woman, without moving her body blinked. Once. Twice. To wetten her eyes. She paused. And for a time she lay on her back. Stiff, and with an intense stare fixed on the ceiling. Waiting.

There they were again. Her neck crooked to the side to pay attention to the door. Just behind it they lingered. The voices.

The monotone mumbleing of hundreds of thousands of swelling straying voices. Although, this time, it weren‘t just her own. The house, a terrible malicious thing, had allowed it‘s inhabitants to give them their voices back for a while.

Hence, they were talking all at once. Maca tried to keep them out. They only reminded her of what those man had done. Gave her grusome visuals. And that she could not bare.

The houses intentions were clear. In order to spark more anger in the woman it had let them loose. It wanted Maca to burn it all down to the ground.

And the more Maca resistet them, the louder they got. The houses own noices aswell.

They swelled up to such a loudness that at one point the bodyless voices became deafening to her.

And being right on the edge of loosing her mind. Maca jumped up screaming with an inhumane ear-splitting loud sound.

1,  
2,  
3,  
4,  
5,  
6,  
7,  
8,  
9

She stopped.  
Tranquillity swollowed any noise.  
As if being muted, the voices had fallen silent.  
So had the house.  
So had she.

Clearly, it was not willing to drive her into absolute madness. It had a plan but Maca was resisting. So it let her go. Granted, her to pass on. Gave her all the time she needed.

And so she walked. And walked. And walked. All the while, not realizing that it was a sculduggery of the houses evil, that let her wander through it‘s halls without end. Lurring her back into its plan. Unbeknownst, where it would lead her.

Hours went by like that, and the woman walked on. It didn‘t matter how hard the blond would try. The house had its ways. It would always get what it desired. Even if it took until the end of the day.

That was proved right as there came a time upon them, where she stopped trying, eventually giveing in wholly.

The voices started drippleing in like water through a leaking roof. Once more, they became so much that she feared drowning in them.

She didn‘t. The voices stopped at a certain point where she felt out of breath yet still had enough air come through. She‘d be fine.

They were telling her in whispers about all the possible ways of takeing vengence. About which path she had to take. Every little detail she had to keep in mind.

All, while always considering the ethical dilema it would cause within the blond. But the house being so wicked, twisted and turned it until it was reasonable to give in to such a deadly sin again.

It consumed so much time, more than she jad anticipated. The blond had wanted to have taken revenge the moment she woke up but being lead by some unusual force...She understood. They had reason. She needed to be patient for a little while longer.

Night arose and the woman would walk. Day would come and she would walk further through the labyrinth.  
The sun would rise. The sun would set. And the woman would walk. Day after day passed by like that. The woman always listening closely. Nodded every now and then as if she undestood.

And soon enough she found herself infront of the huge portal doors. Still, breathing harsh. The voices had not left her yet.

Her fingers reached for the doorknob and right away the voices that had still been evident became silent.

Relifed, she opened the door. Stepped over the threshold of the portal doors. Finally, leaving the house behind.

And the house...It let her go. Because it knew what was to happen next. It let her go in order for her not to fall victim to the world.

To let her find the air she so desperately craved. To give her room to breathe and live again.

It was certain, the house that is, that she ought find her peace within this heathenish wasteland. The bound was broken at last.

And Maca... She walked.  
And walked...,  
and walked.

And as she walked away like that, a shadow carefully peeled itself away from the safety of the darksome walls of the house.

Watching her every step. Filled with sorrow.  
It was Zulema. She cared. She had cared so much. And yet, she let her go.  
Again.  
For she knew what needed to happen. As it had been her. The evil inside the walls.  
The voices.  
The scorpion.  
The raison d'être for why Maca was set free of her bounds. And not kept inside the houses greedy claws. To transform into another lost soul.

Not all evil is bad. Zulema knew that, all to well. As a matter of fact, the bad can not exist without the good in it. By breaking Maca she had given Maca a reason to stay alive. The good and the bad forever interviened.

And Zule longed for it. She needed to help her rubia furthermore. Her her time was counted. But she had to wait for a little longer. For now sending her away had to be enough. She kept on looking after her. Getting smaller with every step.

By now the blond was running. Though, that didn‘t hinder her to watched back into the houses direction. She had felt the houses dolor burning holes into her back and as she looked. She saw. There it was again. The scorpion. Or at least that‘s what she thought it was. She was unable to tell for sure. As the distance between them had grown to big.

Maca turned her head back again. With each step coming closer to her justice. Guided, by her overseer.

Her fate was already written in stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least she‘s finally on her way...gosh dis bish is slow😂


	5. Devotion and transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John 11:25  
> 25 (...) said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;

Notwithstanding, the girl felt her gaze and the taunting laughter of the house dwelling on her, as she ran away. Unaware, of the imidiate future that lay ahead of her. The house kept on watching, and a little part of it, guided her towards her sin. Into a godforsaken future. To keep a phantasma alive.

And after some time had past, the girl had already shrunk so little, that it was hard to make her out on the horizon, Zulema followed in her wake. Together, interviened as the guilty and the innocent, they would pilgramage to one more destination before their last battle.

* * *

The scorpion,  
so much is known, had once been an reputeable criminal. Not so much different from everyone else who walked this earth and yet it had tried to change the way of the world, her own that is, until she realized that that is not possible. That it‘s just another superstition of mankind. And even though that made the scorpion feel like it was dispenseble, it was by no means that.

Because in the end, every little thing counts. Every little dust particle can change the curse of time. Think about the dessert and it‘s million year old sand. You move one grain of sand and you’ve moved history.

Now, the scorpion is merely an idea. One that had been created to show truths to her lover. Because her time walking on earth had run out sooner than aticipated.  
She now is, as metioned before, the knowledge inside the house, and the wasteland. An animal but no animal at all. Everything, yet nothing. A mere ghost of itself. An oxymoron within this lonesome world.

A contradiction, that the rest of the world did not approve of. And being as a ghost, for her felt as if someone had cut out her tongue. But that was not exacly the case. The Gods had offered her another chance at life, to revenge her death but also to reunite with her one true love. Them being the melicious creatures they are, had decided to take away her ability to talk. A list, as in her life time she had only used her words to get what she desired. The Gods thought, without her voice, she had to finally show affection. Talk by touch or with her eyes anything to else but lurring words. Onl too late, and blinded by her greed for a life in freedom, she had realized, that this promising chance had been nothing more but a fraud. The loss of that had ultimetely forced the scorpion to walk among the dead, the vermin and everything else inhumane crawling this ground. And in search for a chance to communicate with her lover, The one she let go so conscientious, she had taken in the form of a scorpion. Because she knew that in ancient Egypt, the scorpion symbolized protection but also life and death. The beginning and the end.

* * *

Together they walked. Apart. Until Zulema had catched up to her. Yet again, in the form of the scorpion. Untouchable, by anything as she was nothing but an idea.

In the distance far away in front of them, lay something on the dry earth.

It was the by now mumified dead body of Zulema. It knew where they were going and so the scorpion could see herself, or rather what was lleft of her. Laying there on the ground abandoned in the ever same wasteland she had started wandering upon.

Once the blond womans eyes had found the figure on the ground she began to run. As fast as her feet were able to carry her. With a steady gaze, she run towards the stiff body. The nearer she go the harder her lungs started to burn with the effort it took. She breathed heavy, tripping over her feet time and time again until finally she had reached her destiantion. With a thud she fell down to her knees.

Right infront of her now the remains. Charred from the sun it lay there. Still, lost, forgotten by everything and the fair haired woman... Whos eyes roamed the body, unbeknownst to her who it was. Just like so many before her, she too, had lost the memories of the scorpions physical appearance to, vanished from her mind. The woman looked at it. In search for anything that could possibly tell her the bodys secret. Anything that would reveal it´s identity.

It was not until the sun shone down onto the dead body that the light revealed a straight black line beneath one of her hollow eyesockets. That Macas memories where triggered. Realization hit her with full force, she was face to face with her very own Tantalus again.

So the woman bend over and put her hands to her face. Took a few deep breathes then threw her head back. It arched and she let loose such a gutteral loud scream, so desperate, it seemed as if suddenly all the hurt and anger, all the frust she had been carrying within, for so long, was enclosed in this scream. And the scream eventually became a melody. Echoing through the wasteland.

The scorpion which had been watching from the sideline, but now as he saw what it had inflicted on Macarena, its tiny legs worked their way over to the woman and her hard charred body. The woman following its movements with its eyes. Sensing the gaze on it the scorpion stopped and the music fell silent.

They looked at each other for a split second, the scorpions pincers hovering over the dead body. Neither one dared to make a move and so she continued. Conjuring the melody anew, this time it had a sorrowful tone to it.

Its little legs made its way over the charred body its movements becoming more hectic and louder with each step. And the melody that arose from the of the scorpions legs on the dry deserted floor was the only sound evident in that very moment.

The woman had paused.

She let one knee rise, so that she was now half kneeling infront of the body. Reached out for it with her arms and carefully picked up it up easily, it was lighter than expected.

And like she walked. Carrying her with valour through the wasteland.

In her wake the scorpion followed accompining them with the melody of that surrowful lullaby.

It followed and to the desert it seemed, like it was a funeral march. As if they they were pilgrims worshipping yet at the same time mourning a loss.

And they walked some more...

until they came upon an river.

There the fair haired woman began to sing again.

_Yallah yallah habibi yallah..._

while she lowered her lover into the stream. And the stream took her. Washed her away. Letting her slip away. She ought be free now if she ever wanted to.

Crestfallen the woman turned her head around and walked away from the troubled waters. Looking back over her shoulder being afraid that her companion might have drowned herself, that she had jumped in the river after her body but no. It stood there on the rivers shore. Bemourning itself for a while.

And the woman, flooded with relief, walked back to pick it up. She hold her hand out to the scorpion who glady accepted the invite. It walked on it. Then the woman raised her hand up to her shoulder where it calmly settled down.

A reassureing thouth crept through the scorpions mind.

Whie her body was at rest now, the ghost of her was not. The scorpion had decided to stay. At least for a little while longer.

And they kept on walking. El Hotel El Oasis their destination.

And as they walked like that a lonely bird spread its wings above them, its shadow sheltering them from the blazeing sun. Keen it threw his head back and let out such an ear-piercing scream that the woman feared she´d loose her hearing.

However, the woman had no reason at all, to be afraid as by letting her body go Zulema was now able to inhabit all kinds of different shells.

Maca looked at the scorpion and it winked. Maca understood. The scorpion was the bird and the bird was her. She was all.

And like that they walked on. Among the wasteland, flushed with a new hope, on their way to their last destination. Hotel El Oasis.The woman was certain, she would find her way now. The scorpion would guide her. And the bird would keep her safe.

As if Zulema had read her mind the bird high up in the sky screechd again. Both of their heads turned upward and admired the glistening plumage that seemed to be flareing like fire in the setting sun.


	6. The maledict bequest of Medusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proverbs 5:3-6  
> 3For the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil;  
> 4 but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword.  
> 5 Her feet go down to death; her steps lead straight to the grave.  
> 6 She gives no thought to the way of life; her paths wander aimlessly, but she does not know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, her take on vengeance.  
> To some it might be a bit graphic at the end, so be aware of that:)

Thus not all was lost. The two two odd fellows somewhat lived in a kind of symbiosis. Taking advantages of each other in order to reach their common goal. Maca as the lifeline for zule into the mortal world and Zule as macas umbilical cord to the immortal world.

Like that they walked the land for hours. Hours became days and days turned into a week. For seven days they had walked without a break.

Without food.

Without water.

Only a few drops of water, the woman had catched with her bare hands, while it had rained. And a few animal cadaver she had eaten out of pure disstress had kept her alive. Yet time had taken a toll on her. The blond was utterly exhausted.

Seven days of lost time.

Seven days in which they could have accomplished their dark goal.

But they didn´t arrive at the Hotel. And thus it stayed of reach.

The two companions had been on their journey for such a long time that the woman feared that time itself had stopped turning. That it had frozen just to mock them. To leave them on an endless road never able to redeem. Destined to be lost. Because the intentions they held before their minds eyes were of evil nature.

The only thing that kept the woman going was her comorade. Who kept her warm when those cool desert nights endangered the blonds blood to build ice crystals. And when her lips started to turn a cold bluish purple color the fiery plumage of the bird kept her from freezing to death.

Yes, maybe her fear was reasonable, maybe it was not. It drove her to the edge of insanity and resigning. Yet the days went by and with each rising sun they would begin to walk anew. And the scorpion wouldn´t allow her blond to give up.It kept her walking. And so more hours went by, and time began to turn again. Albeit it had never really stopped. With her gaze fixed on the horizon the woman walked and walked and walked until she felt like she no longer could.

The bird scretched from time to time to keep her at task and then when the woman wanted to give up something catched the blonds eyes. Far away aligned with the horizon the outline of El Oasis glimmered in the heat of the setting sun.

As fate had wanted it she ought to attain her goal. Thus flushed with a new hope the woman began to ran. Her legs carrying her fast towards the buildin as they could until they eventually gave out under her. The womans legs tangled up and made her trip ove. And as she hit the ground a dark rumbling sound echoed through the wasteland that was no wasteland at all. They had reached civilization.

Still, within the blink of an eye and just out of reach of the hotel boundaries she lay. Unable to feel anything but utter exhaustion. Life was challanginng her, time and time again. The days had left her dehydrated and starved. The realization of her defeat let some spare tears drop on the sandy ground, just like herself it tried to achieve the seemingly impossible. In vain her salty tears tried to irrigate the ground. It tried to let life grow not considering the requirements needed for such an undertakeing. The salty tears spoiled the already dead ground. And thus she layed still, out of pure exhaustion but mainly because of humiliation. Humiliation of having failed all over again. She was done. With fighting, with staying alive... she did not fight it. Simply stayed put on the sandy ground devoteing herself to the calmness washing over her.

But as womans nerveless body hit the floor the little scorpion, that had been resting on her shoulder, got thrown away. It landed a long way off but the bird had watched from above. And seeing the woman laying there, it came down from the firmament to the quiescent crying body that lay, so vulnerable, on the dry earth beneath it. Protective Zulema lay her wings over the defeated figure that was Macarena.

With every little sob the body quaked and wings closed in around it. Keeping her warm and safe within the cookoon of her feathers. Her safe haven from being alive.

Three more days went by in which the woman found her strength again. Like a careying mother the bird had nursed the blond back to life. Then set her free with a screetched that said

_"Fly high, for this is me, giveing you all of me. Fly high, for this are the remenant of all the good I had left within."_

Understanding, sore limbs unfolded themselves and arose from the ground like a phoenix would out of his ashes. The woman, back in the land of the living found herself right where she had left of. In front of the Hotels entrance.

Barely after realizing her luck a voice found the auditory canal of her ear. It was like music to her. Particuarly because it belonged to no other than the man she had seeked for so long. To one of the men who had riddled Zulema until not one inch of her being had been untouched by those awful smoldering bullets. Phantom screams penetrated her soul and eventually echoed through her mind, the memory triggered a fire to flare up in those calm honey eyes. It dipped them in a dangerously hot orange, reflecting her vivaciousness more than ever. Although, they bode ill. When the blond had exceeded over the property line the scorpion stopped. This step she had to take on herself. Zulema would take care of the aftermass. With that she let her go again, this time though, having an eye on her from above.

Lead by the voice she eve droped on. The woman walked around the hotel. And found the man she had seeked, smokeing on the terace. The man blinded by the alleged beauty of the blond did not recognize her. Nor did he see the way her eyes tried to eat him live. Or the the flames flareing within them. And when he started to rise from his seat he didn´t feel the heat the woman radiated either. Didn´t even feel that burning sensation that threatened to burn his skin away. The both opponents circled each other. Exploring the others body in an peculiar dance. Words left his mouth and Maca played along. She sang to him in an foreign tongue. Winding the man around her finger like a sticky flytrap. Her tongue like sticky syrup produceding words of such sweetness, every man or woman would fall for her empty promises.

Words as deathly as Medusas gaze had been.Truely, she was a Medusa of words. Everyone who came to hear her voice got lurred into her fangs. Turning not into stone but just as cold, the second she striked. And she ought strike soon.

Then the man as if he was in tance dared to touch milky skin. And those adhesive fingers of the woman touched him too. But in such an way Zulema disaproved of and so the bird who had silently watched from above let out a waring scrreech. Macarena looked up and so the mans gaze followed. He wanted to impress the woman in front of him and pulled his gun. Aiming at the bird. But the woman interviened this scum wouldn´t take her away a second time.

Unbeknownst to him, the man had given more wood to the fire and so the fire within the woman gained momentum. More confident her sweet nothings lured him inside. Into the hotels safe walls. Into his room. Into his doom. And there she told him more cheap words. Stripped him bare of his clothes and the guys libido grew. He was hungry for love while Maca had already been filled to overflowing with it. It had spilled over and taken her beloved away. Now she was starving to get revenge.

Their game was almost over.

Once the guy was completly deafensless the blond took his Glock from the pants that lay abandoned on the ground. Aware of what he had coming the man did not try to get away. He would do penance. And he would wait. His voice praying mumbled prayers, an gloomy company to his immediate future.

Experianced slim hands examined the gun and founf it to be12 bullets strong. The woman took her time the man shoud suffer even worse agony then her lover did. And so her perfidious voice counted ever single bullet.

"One" it hit left leg and shatterred his tibia with and nasty cracking sound.

"Two" it irrupted the skin on his righ leg and broke his patella. The man bore the pain in silence, the only sounds where his tormented runts and the cracking of his breaking bones.

"Three" this one smashed the left elbow.

"Four" it followed into his hand leaving an stikeing hole in it.

"Five" the bullet had a meeting with his bowles.

"Six"

"Seven" conveyed the once before. The blonds hair, pink with splatters off blood, fired without a twinge of remourse. With every bullet that ruptured the mans skin, one in Zulemas closed. It spend her solace. With a sullen facial expression the woman was persuaded would not stop until she had closed every gash in Zulemas body. The blond had walked around the blood drenched bed and lay the barell down on his heart. The mans intact hand reached out for the barell. His weak fingers curled around it and pushed it deeper into his skin. Pleading for it to be over. The fire in her eyes had extinguished. They were colly.

"Eight" his hand droped off and other like the twitching body below, the woman didn´t flinch as the bullet pierced the mans heart and sprinkled her anew with purepure blood.

"Nine"

"Ten" both followed shortly after. This man ought never love again. Not on in this world, not even in the sternmost corners of hell.

"Eleven" the man was still alive, scarcely but alive.

The twelth bullet waited. Takeing in the moment. She had all the time in the world. Gloating over her deed before her hand changed it´s position. The blond put the gun in between his eyes. Yet, when the man, in his lasts breaths of life, looked up with his weary eyes he saw not into the face of death. He saw the woman and in her eyes there lingered no death. He looked but all he saw was her beauty and her unblameable smile.

"Twelve" Her hand pulled the trigger for the definite time and the bullet cracked the mans skull apart. With a nauseous snap the bone broke and set the bullet free on the other side. His brain was dripping down on the ironic beach wallpaper behind him. Mixed with blood and bone fragments.

She had extinguishing the life within the mans tired eyes. She had redeemed him albeit he didn´t deserve it. And all the pain she could possibly inflic would never enough to still her hunger for vengeance.

Death, she thought blood smeared, is only a mechanical error the body gives out but the soul continues to live. The mans eternal suffering in hell brought the blond at least some sort of cold comfort. It was enough for the time being. Sure, when the man went he was enlightened. He had payed for his depth by doing penance and went into the abyss as a free man, but his doings had been bargained for only his own prosperity thus he was doomed in to purgatory, regardless. So the man, aware of his sins transgressed the gates of hell.

And the woman...

She continued to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walk to the next guilty dude of course we´re still going.  
> But the end is already written:)


	7. Apples of two faced Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genesis 2:17  
>   
> but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for on the day you eat from it, you will certainly die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victim number two...  
> Be warned it turned a little bit freaky... enjoy.😈

The woman

* * *

The woman was just about to lay down, to rest, when a strange feeling within her arose. Something that pushed her to walk some more. It was a strange feeling and the woman found it to be familiar, yet, she couldn´t quite place it.

It was the house that provoked that odd feeling in the woman.

Once again it had managed to invaded the woman´s mind. With intentions to guide her back on to the path that would inevitably send her to the dire house.

The scorpion a keen soul knew. And so did the bird. As they were one. Both were trying in vain to get the woman’s attention. To keep her away from that maledict house.

For they knew, once the house would let you go, twice it would turn you, and the third time it would keep you.

It was like an addiction. Once you have started it you cannot withstand your urges. It seemed to be life threatening not to go and so all their tries were for nothing. The woman would walk.

The blond was stubborn. Blinded by her hunger for vengeance. And guided by the house, which had put its spell on the blond woman anew. For it had longed for her. For her soul. Because when it had let her go the house felt as if part of it was missing. And knowing that the woman had to kill a few, it waited. Patiently and ready to fullfil it´s evil plan. Until it could lure her back in. Slowly earning her trust. Till the third time would come, and the house would keep her forever. She would become just another lost soul trapped within the brickwork.

And so the woman walked. Following the magnetic pull, she had just left behind a week prior. The pull that would lead her back into belly of the beast.

The house had changed.

They wandered for hours on end, and the house felt the womans comrades ill will. Could sense them trying to keep it´s prey from it. Hence the house made them fall behind.

No matter how fast they ran the distance, between the woman and her fellows, grew bigger and bigger. The blond did not realize it. She walked and walked straight ahead with her gaze fixed on the nothiness infront of her. Only, coming to an halt when she had reached the portal doors. There she stood now, taking in the houses daunting fassade for a moment.

Yet, it wasn´t as daunting as it had been. In fact the woman found the house to be lighter then it had been when she had left it. More amiable even. And that threw her off. Leaving the woman trapped in a back and forth. Last time the voices had given her one explicit rule. Don´t go near the garden. Each time she accidently or not ended up close to it. They had gotten so loud the woman had feared for her eardrums to burst. 

But being back now, the voices had vanished and the house itself had become calmer. Too calm.

And the gardden so wonderful. Filled with fruits and vegetables, colorful flowers and birds, that she could hardly resist. It was of the utmost beauty, so absurd in fact that it was a mystery how something like that was able to thrive in this wasteland. Though, there it was, right infront of her.

Should she walk through the labyrinth and break the only rule the voices had given her. Or should she rest and wait for an epiphany.

Eventually the woman settled for the latter. She ought wait for an idea to get her second plan going.

But the house being the house... responsible for the suspicious silence. Had kept them lost souls quiet. It had put them back into the walls and in all the cracks the brick work had gotten through the turn of time. Had put those lost souls back where they belonged. And the scorpion and the bird as well. Now, it could manipulate the woman undisturbed.

The house had changed.

Just like the woman had changed herself.

And just like her the house had gotten a taste of blood.

This time they would strike together. Meanly manipulated by the house that had nested itself into the woman´s mind like a parasite, the blond made a fatal decision.

Without anyone holding her back the woman broke the golden rule she had been given.

 _Never under any circumstance enter the garden._ A particular smoky voice had told her.

Still, the woman went, because in the short time that she´d been at the house before, regardless of all those warnings, the woman had never fathomed as to why she shall not go there.

After all, the garden seemed like a safe haven, with its neatly arranged flower patches and windig paths, the animals that happily thrived there, all those pretty juicy fruits growing everywhere, not to mention the trees, filled to the top with apples and cherries and all sorts of delicacies.

And before she knew her feet had walked through the labyrinth on their own accord, stopping in frtont of the doors that would lead her into the garden. Her slim hand lay down on the handle and when she pressed it her ears were met with the most wonderful melodies of nature. She stepped over the door sill into paradise.

The scorpion

* * *

Eventually the scorpion and the bird reached the house´s grounds aswell. Far behind the blond woman, of course, who was already harvesting the garden.

But once on the houses acursed property it granted her the human body of a Butler that has had a rather unfortunate fate. Unlike her he was lost. Zulema however, had the privilege of being of unknown origin. She wasn´t quite a ghost nor a soul, she was merely an idea. And thus she could fool the house from time to time. still, the house was not reckless, and a human body has mortal weaknesses, hence the scorpion had to be cautious. _This was surely one of the houses tricks._

She had not yet left the porch in the front, that the Butler perceived a faint melody. It was her lullaby that her lover was whistling just then. The woman, it dawned on the apalled Butler, must be behind the house in the forbidden garden. _She had broken the golden rule. Don´t set foot in that condemned garden, ever.  
_

But for all that, the Butler wasn´t furious with her lover. She was aware that it had been the house´s doing and not the womans free will that had brought her into the garden.

Nevertheless she had to protect her before the house had her in it´s grip, not willing to let her go ever again.

The garden

* * *

The garden was a through and through malacious place. A place so vicious, thinking alone made the Butler shiver. For where the woman saw the beautiful winding paths the Butler saw the horrifying truth. A truth that was made of scruffy flesh and blood.

The garden was no colorful paradidse at all it was a putrid bone yard. The trees were no trees but corpses held up by other mortal remains. And where she walked there was no path but grey mush. The remanents of the decaying people who the house had held captive. And when the woman streched to reach for an apple she picked no fruit but rotten limbs. The scorpion must help her or she wouuld lose herself completely.

With her outstretched arms she ran into the portal doors pushing the them open with such force that the wooden door frame bursted under the intensity of the Butlers determation. Not stopping for another second, she made her way through the labyrinth of the houses passageways, following the melody of the womans whistles. She left the emperior stairways behind and found herself in the galery then moved on through the following door which lead to a wintergarden filled with hundreds of flowers rather resembling a jungle than a wintergarden.

She hated that place dearly with its gloomy atmosphere where you´d find yourself stuck in a live night terror. Whereforth she kept on going, fighting her way through the dense leafage, getting it out of her way with her hands. Finally she reached the door to the libary. Before opening the door she took a deep breath as she knew what horrors she was about to witness.

  
Not entirely into the liberary the Butler could already see the womans physique behind the milky glass of the windows. Her mind haunted by the bloodcurling images of what was going on behind those blind windows.

In the meantime the bird flew in circles high above them at the canopy keeping a watchful eye on them. Far away from this place of terror. A place that shouldn´t exist under any circumstance. A place so dark that it outlasts all.

Determined the Butler strode through the door. Before her the girl, basket in one hand filled with decaying body parts inhabited by vermin. Crawling and juicy, absurd loudly eating their way through the decomposing flesh. Her stomping feet makeing an awfully wet noice on the mushy path below her, as she turned to face the intruder. All the while chewing on an alleged apple.

She looked so thoroughly happy being cushioned against reality by the house. Completetly innocent enjoying an alleged juicy green apple. When in reality her teeth bore into the gray mass of decaying arm. Its rotting sweet juices dripping down over her chin, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Disfigureing her face with the decomposing fluids of the limb she had just eaten so pleasurably.

When the woman peered the stranger she smiled at her with an abominable teethy smile. Vermin curling itself inbetween the womans teeth, some escapeing the hole while others got crushed by the womans strong jaw. Then she bend down to touch the moss, telling the stranger how beautiful the garden was. And how to her it seemed to be the most delicious fruit she had ever eaten and the softes moss she had ever walked on. Her hand glided over the moss. Unbeknownst to her her fingers collected all the human sludge and it´s inhabitants. Always with an smile plastered on her face.

Horrified the butler watched. Feling sick to the stomach as she watched her woman enjoying her snacks. Wallowing in the moss, like a child giggleing, although it was no moss at all. When she stood up again, the blond was covered from head to too in the feculent sludge.

She even offered the stranger some apples from her basket with that eerily smile on her face. Although the Butler tried to make clear that she didn´t want any the woman insisted. And so the Butler took over the basket, assuring the woman she would eat some apples later but for now she would collect some more.

Content with that answer, the woman happily handed over her basket. But took one especially pretty one out of it. One voice had returned but the butler being occupied, from keeping her from eating rotten limbs, couldn´t control what it would be telling the woman. Who left the Butler behind with the basket walking back into the house to relax for some time. Closely listening to the voice which shared its secret plan with her.

Once the girl had left. The Butler started noticeing the decomposing gases of the corpses closeing in on him. She acted fast since the gasses now fogging up, were deadly for the human hull the scorpion inhabited. Henceforth she hurried over to the barn where the gasmasks were stored.

There she took one and and began her work. Holding the basket in her left hand she shuffled through the field of corpses to her feet. Simultaneously scattering the rotting pieces of one gone life on top of another.

Letting the already existing piles grow. Walking through the dense fog of deadly gases the old man felt the fog becomeing a malicious trap. Deadly to every existing organism but the woman.

And soon enough the Butler´s silhouette befogged as she slowly made her last steps forward into the field of definite death. Lost in the mist. Yet, certain that she´d kept the girl safe. But in such a grim place there was no certainty only the law of the house. And that had already played it´s cards. The Butler had lost this time.

  
Consequently the Butler disappeared through the thick drapery of fog forever. And so the house would keep her in it´s belly for while, just long enough for the woman to reach her next victim and strike with such deadness, that Macarena would eventually sell her soul to it. Her next victim was not so far away.

The house had changed places. And dismissed the blond right in front of the hotel she had left a few days ago.

El Oasis

* * *

The blond had returned to the Hotel, whistling a jolly tune. Eager to slay.

When the man had entered the hotel he had encountered the utmost gruesom scene he had ever seen. In his friends bed lay a decomposing corpse, elideing such a dreadful stench that he emptied his stomach contents all over the floor.

Distraughed the man left the room. Sat down outside, on the same terasse where his friend had fallen for the baneful beauty. There he attempted to process what he had just witnessed.

How could that have happened. What had happened? Questions over questions formed themselves inside the mans disturbed mind. Until he heard a wonderful tune. Sung by an even more beautiful godess.

Like his friend before him, the man reckoned a woman of such raven beauty, must be his salvation. When in reality she ought be his downfall. Disguised in the utmost wonderful creature he had ever lain his eyes upon. Just wandering this spoiled earth. It must have been their destiny to meet, the man thought.

And again, her honey tongue, her sweet nothings, lured the man into her claws. She told him a made up story of what had happened that she had been watching those horrors unfolding from afar. But that before she would tell him she would prepare some food for him. Because in order to revenge his brother he needed proper strength.

Thus, it was that the woman disppeared into the kitchen and prepared a feasts for the man, spiked with warfarin. Some rat poison that the house had revealed to her.

It had taken the blond around an hour to prepare the deadly dish. So long in fact, that in the meantime the scorpion and the bird had catched up with the woman. However, the house was close enough to keep them at a great distance. Near enough to see the horrors unfold, yet far enough not to intervene.

And so she set the food in front of him. A huge plate of duck and potatos. And another one filled with vegetables and fruits. On top of the second plate, lay one especially bright colored apple. The applle of two faced Eden. One could eat it one could not.

To him it seemed like a normal dish and for the woman too, although she knew that it was deadly delicious. But the bird had witnessed the horror from above. Everything the woman had touched had turned bad. And everything the man would shove into his mouth was flea-bitten. He was poisoning himself one piece at a time. And the woman... was observing him. Mouth agape, spreading her sweet honey words with a finger over her red lips, talking the man into exorbitant overeating.

Just like the house had manipulated her the woman manipulated the man now. Thus the man ate and ate until he no longer could. And then when he couldn´t take anymore he went over to the pool and lay down on a sunlounger.

For a while he didn´t realize his fate. Being fast asleep. The woman began to grown impatient, but the voice kept her from forstalling the poison. It reassured her that her patiance would be worth it.

Bloodthirst

* * *

The man man was woken by devasting pain in his stomach. Almost instantly he started coughing miserably, and up came blood. The woman acted worried but knew very well what it was, that caused him such agony just then.

She was responsible and was happy that his destiny now was to die an undiscribeable painful death.

With a sick grin, she let him lay there. Watching him suffer from above, while he patheticly prayed for help. Help that wouldn´t be granted to him any time soon. His fate was written in stone. He would die.

After half an hour of miserable coughing up blood. His organs began to fail. With every strained cough his intestines contracted, raptureing his organs surfaces with minimal cracks, that caused slow internal bleeding. Not enough to make him die in a matter of minutes but enough for excruciating pain.

The man beneath her moaned in agony. And slowly but surely there came blood out of his nose and ears, slowly dripping down over his face. And eventually onto his torso, drenching his clothes, ironicly white. And when his clothes were soaked, the fabric unable to absorb more blood, the crimson drops dropped down onto the sunlounger he lay on. Creating a puddle remining her of the one she had stood in, mourning her lover.

His hurtful moans and screams becaming so horrendous no human would have thought twice about leaving.But the woman watched. Triggered by those memories, with even more brutality.

And so she stood there. Calmy watching. Towering over him. And when he started to finally become short of breath, the woman wanted to be the one doing the the honors. Inevitably, she was about to loose the last human part within her. With ever ill move she had taken to reach this moment, she had lost part of herself to the house. Which consumed her greedily. Leaving her numb. And it would take the last. Crestfallen the bird circled above the woman. It was one thing to kill with a gun, but something completely different to kill with your your own hands.

Moreover when it were not his pleads that drove her to this decision but simply her hunger for blood.

She had gotten a taste for it and wasn´t able to stop now. So her hands reached out. Hands so small she needed both of them to get around the mans meaty blood covered neck.

It was so slippy she pressed for a bit but the slick blood let her fingers slip away. Trapping the man amids an sick game of breath play. He woud be denied air for a few seconds until her hands would slip anew.

At one point she got tired of it and grabbed a towel. Dried his neck, in vain as the bleeding wouldn´t stop. But it was enough for her not to slip again.

In the next six minutes she towered over the immobilized man. Her hands tightly wrapped around his neck squeezing.

The woman started from the beginning. At first she let just enough air through for him to defend himself as she listed his offenses.

What he had turned her into and what he had done to her lover albeit not realizing that no one but she herself was responsible for what she had become. That her weak character had allowed the house to take her over. And certainly, the man would have told her because he had no remorse at all. But he was simply to feeble to do so.

And being bored by his incapeability to do something she squeezed his airways shut completely.

He spasmed a bit under the lack of air, in an vain attempt to gain the upper hand. To run from his definite death, but the blood loss and lack of oxygen as well as the poisoning was enough that his attempts were of rather light nature.

Her hands tightened an impossible amount around his neck. Almost crushing it. His eyes, bloodshot emerged from their eyesockets, as the pressure in his head rose. Spitting, blood on her face with ever vainly gulpfor air. He started to make the weirdest noises. Almost like an squeaky scared piggy or guinea pig, and the woman...

She watched unperturbed. Gawping at the man fighting for his life. Gloating over his struggle. Again mouth agape, her honey words continuesly telling him sweet nothings. He deserved it at least in her eyes he did.

Hell-bend not to let go of him, or let him die from the poisoning, she squeezed even tighter. Falling in love with the gurgleing sounds that were able to escape him, how his eyes slowly lost their shine, the mushroom of bloody foam started to form around his mouth and how eventually he stopped twitching when his eyes turned dull.

The mans body relaxed under her her,

his grunts fell silent,

his fight with death came to an end after 6 infinite minutes,

and finally the woman let him go.

With a thud he landed back on the sunlounger, the lack of tension, though, made him flop down onto the ground.

The woman let her head fall back and looked up into the sky. Stretching her sore limbs. Killing with your own strength was a hard chore. Surely the woman would need a break.

From above the bird looked down at her. Seeing her lover ruthless like that made her doleful. This was not her Rubia. This was a ruthless killer searching for justice where there was non in the first place, but the bird found comfort in the fact that there was only one person left to avenge.

A single silvery teardrop landed on Macas forehead, it was part of Zulemas soul. There was, after all, some good left of her. More than she knew. She gave it up with the strong believe that if she would give it to her, piece by piece, in the end, maybe, just maybe, there would be enough humanity left in her lover to guide her into paradise. 

Yet, unimproved the blond wiped the blood on her face away with it. Then grabbed the lifeless body of the man by his throat. And dragged him into the room where his friend was resting. She threw them on a pile and went outside back to the sunloungers.

The house had told her to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It´s almost Halloween so it´s okay:)


	8. The origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew 13:42-43  
> 42and shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be the weeping and gnashing of teeth.  
> 43 Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. He that hath ears, let him hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Syrian poet named Adonis who employed the motif of eternal rebirth of a phoenix.
> 
> Resurecction and Ashes-Adonis
> 
> There is a bird in love with its death  
> Who, for the sake of a new beginning  
> Will burn itself alive. 
> 
> Although this chapter did not want to flow and was apain in the ass I dearly hope it´s good enough enjoy.:(  
> Oh the last chapter only needs some more additions so it will be up much sooner:)

A chance

* * *

There on the sunlounger she would wait for the light of day to eventually fade into nighfall,

until it was time for the moon to fall again and the sun to rise anew,

for the night to give away to the light of day, and so forth.

And the woman waited.

Day and night changed in an seemingly eternal cyclus of rebirth, falling fot the other, keeping the woman await for a long period of time. 

Yes, once more time seemed to play with her. And although, it is always easy to push unpleasant thoughts aside, it is never easy to face the truth. Thus, the wait was a necessity, more so, a lesson to the woman.

_Do harm, and you shall feel the repercussion._

_Kill, and you shall fall by your wrongs._

_Be death, and when you take the innocent down with you,_

_and evil bribes your heart,_

_then you too, shall become evil._

_And you ought be banned from walking the land of heaven and earth._

_But try to break the cycle,_

_do repent your injustice,_

_and you ought be free._

So it was that the passing days faded into one infinite time.

The woman before long, so much was clear, had to face her demons. And evven though time gave her respite, to reevalueate her deeds, to divide between right and wrong. The woman it appeared, had no moral compass at all. Somewhere on her journey it must have slipped away. Perchance, just like the memories of her lover, it had dwindled away between the grains of sand. Leaving behind, only featureless shadows of what once had been. A mere feeling of something more valueable to her. However, unable to place it, to know what that might have been at the start. It remained unknown to her. Only for time to disclose that secret.

But time, time was running out. Unhastly rippleing through her fingers like those cursed grains of sand that had lost her lover.

Yet, in the end the woman had no other choice, she had to wait for days on end. It was Time´s attempt to force her in the right direction. So she could be redeemed. But the woman was sacrificeing her place in heaven, wasteing time she not really had to gift, instead of rueing the lifes she had taken so ruthlessly. Without any sentiment she was planing her next kill.

And the house.

The house had abandoned the woman for good. After her last kill it had given her one final task.

_Finish what you have started._

Like a mantra, it repeated itself over and over again in her head. Since what had been started shouldn´t be stopped. Not so close to the finishline anyway.

Then the house had repelled the blond from it’s grounds, taunted the woman, laughed at her for it belived it had won. That it had successfully taken her soul. And in a way, it had done just that. And if not taken her soul it had at least created a unscrupulous beast. That was now awaiting her next victim. Numbly she sat there on the sunlounger. The calm before the storm. Her poisonous yellow eyes standing out, like the burning sun, through the brownish red maskerade of dried blood. Her gaze fixed on the glinting hot sand in the distance.

The savior

* * *

However, with the house gone, the bird and the scorpion, were allowed back in. The two comorades where her guides, her consciousness, her saviors in disguise.

Ultimately they had found their way back to her, although with dismay, as she was detemined to slay for one definate time.

If it would not have been for the bird, the exhausted woman would not have lived. For in that single teardrop. That had touched the blond’s forhead. Had stuck a piece of Zulema´s soul. One of the last few relicts of a her own doomed soul. But a soul at last.

Apparently there had been more good than they‘d believed. And that in itself, was more than the blond could give herself.

So, with nothing else to do she kept on wasteing time, prepareing to play God, and for what? For a feeling she could not place, That drove her to do unspeakable things.

The problem was that she felt to remorse at all. And it wass than that Time began to fathom the woman.

<She could not be saved before she finished what had been started. Before she would finally get closure through takeing the last one out. Hence it yieled in to the woman´s sinister intentions. Because at times revenge is neither good or bad. Thinking about it sets it’s meaning. The only problem was that neither one was inculpable but both were guilty.

So Time let her go. And this time it was Time itself that began to wait for the woman to come clean with her loss. It would stand steady in it´splace, on hold, for the woman to be enlightened with a deeper unerstanding of the horror she has caused herself. As behind everyone of those awful man, there stood a family, that the woman had caused suffering. Similiar to her own. But Time would wait until the woman´s own redeemer would rise before her and her comorades would guide her through this last step on to the road of understanding.

The origin of all sorrow

* * *

On one peculiar morning, it was when the purple light from the night faded into a light rosy tone announcing a new day, that the orgin of all her sorrow, appeared at the edge of the horizon. A flickering sillouette corporealize bit by bit in the distance. He who was the source of all this evil that had befallen her. The one who had ordered to catch them, dead or alive. The woman took shelter in the shadows of the hotels and morphed into it´s body. Awaiting his arrival.

Unbeknownst, he had come to be judged by his own Last Judgement. So he walked towards his end. Not out of free will, at all.

His men didn‘t return to him and so he had to come search for himself. What he found at the Hotel however, disturbed him. The man could smell it before he saw and the blond godess he encountered in the lobby, he was aware, was part of the reason why.

He came and didn‘t try to get away, his fate was sealed. He smiled sadly at the woman, in a way understandingly. After all he too, knew the pain the woman experianced all to well himself. He was also aware of what he had done wrong. Eventually he opened his mouth and began to tell her a tale.

"There was once a scorpion and a bird, not anything alike, actually they were those two are enemies in the real world. But in this story they made friends with each other...Or so it seemed.

The bird, a budgie, so much was obvious, did not belong in the desert at all. It was in fact, without anyone responsible to keep the little birdy alive, condemned to die out there on it´s own. And the burning sun had done it´s job. As the little feathered crature had become so weary that quite soon it would lose it´s life.

How it is in those stories hope came it´s way. In this case a scorpion. It saw the helpless bird, and although they were typically enemies, the scorpion saw that this bird did not belong in the wasteland out here. Self-centered it decided to help the budgie, to shape it anew. Becaue perhaps it could be useful to it in the future. And with time it should be proved to be right.

At first the bird was leery of the scorpion´s tries to help it, as it had heard that those creatures kills beings like itself. But as soon as the scorpion told the budgie about a place were humans had found water it yielded in to following in it´s path. Human´s meant going back to go home.

With it´s weak body the budgie was in no condition to fly. Hence it had to walk behind the scorpion. And it found that they were more alike than it had initially thought. Side by side they walked their way and soon enough the two odd fellows came to an Oasis.

There the bird drank and ate enough to stay alive. And slowly but surely it returned to it´s true self. Yes, for a short period of time they lived together in peace. The scorpion was able to go outside in the light of day, as the bird served him as protection and as the bird was still to weak to fly that was enough for the scorpion.

That was until the little bird had returned to perfect health. It started to fly around. So high up in the sky, that the scorpion could lost track of it. It feared it would possibly lose it´s companion. And when it decided to come back down the bird would tell the scorpion how free and wide the sky was and whom it mett up there.

Everything the bird mentioned was what the scorpion was yearning for since it was able to think. _Libertad._ And the fact that the scorpion could never have it made it furious. So much that it became jealous enough to lure the docile bird into a malicious trap.

It had told the budgie that in order not to starve they had to find another place to stay. But their way would lead over a river. However, the scorpion confessed to the budgie that it could not swim and in order to cross the river the bird had to take them both over to the other side. It proposed that they should bind themselves together so it would be easier for the bird to drag them both over the water. The good minded bird agreed. And thus the scorpion brought them to the river.

Bound together they ran towards the treacherous black water of the river and jumped. Everything seemed fine until the weight of the scorpion pulled the bird into the dark abyss below.

And although the scorpion had not lied, it was not able to swim, it had not told the whole truth. It was in fact able to wade over the river floor and emerge, unharmed, on the other side. The bird however, kept underwater during that time by it´s ill friend, had drowned.

On the other side, it was the twist of fate, the scorpion ran into the fangs of an grasshopper mouse, that ended it´s life aswell, leaving the bird still bound to the sorpion behind."

The woman had attentively listened to the Mexican. And she acknowledged what he had tried to say with a nod.

_Do not let hate guide your actions, it´s consequences will come for you. For even a dead person is able to avenge the injustice that was done against them. There is always someone who sees everything and will assign everyone their fair punishment._

She had experianced injustic, then she had killed and now she would judge Ramala.

In the face of death he continued.

"The death of a loved one dips you into sticky sadness. It wraps you up and keeps you hunting for more and more and more and won´t let you go until you do u something about it.

I understand what you did and what you are about to do to me. Hell I wanted to d just that too. And I began to kill you all...I did it because I blamed you for the suicide of my daughter... It does help. Killing I mean. In a way, it does. But it´s not enough. After killing Zulema I came to realize that I could inflict as much pain and takes as many lifes as I want but even that would not bring her back.

It drives you into madness. And if you´re not able to stop you end up living in an inbetween world." Maca listened closely. He tried to come clean to.

"Revenge, just as hurt is like sticky syrup." he smiled at her sorrow-strickend mien.

"Maca, getting revenge is, to some point, justified. Valid even. But in the end it will destroy you regardless. You might feel relief for a moment in time. But soon enough, when you calm down from your rage trip, you will see that killling takes an even bigger toll on you."

There´d been a time a long time ago when the blond would have yield. But the woman had changed, her morals lay elsewhere now. There were plenty of reasons why she had changed but there was one in particular. A certain scorpion had poisoned her long before she had taken right and wrong into her own hands. It was the main reason why she was alive. Her poison had made her immune to the cruelty of the world. And she knew. It all would come to an definite end soon. That she would not have to live with this feeling the Mexican was talking about.

Her consciousness

* * *

Thus the woman smiled at him. Picking the scorpion up from it´s place on the table next to her.

"No." she said with a bride smile. Her mouth talked different from her mind.

"It‘s just what I need." - _to feel alive._ she told the man while shakeing her head, looking at the calm animal resting in her palm. 

  
But by saying that one thing became clear to her. He was right. This is her hurt speaking and rather sooner than later her fassade would break. And so she quotes the bible in a vain attempt to validate her following actions.

Her voice had become oddly calm.

"Eye for eye," she started to walk around him.

"tooth for tooth," circleing him.

"hand for hand," her circles becoming smaller and smaller with every verse.

"foot for foot," her touch, although barely there hurt the mans skin.

"burn for burn," one hand closed around one of his thick arms, burning it severely.

"wound for wound," her other hand found it´s twin, giving it an equal burn.

She had invaded his personal space but he did not flinch. Not at the wounds on his skin nor at her proximity.

"When you inflict pain, You ought be prepared for it’s repercussion." The woman´s sticky lips murmured into his ear, sending him a cunning smile before continueing.

"For every bullet that dwindled away in her, Suleima‘s fragile body," she elaborated the obvious, more so as her pointer finger started to riddle his body like the bullets had done Zulema.

"I took justice. By takeing takeing lifes. And with every" she came to a hold in front of him.

"single ...wound." time and time again her finger smacked into Ramala‘s chest angry and frustrated because he was right with everything he had said. But she wouldn´t allow it be true. Not now so close to the end anyway.

"I inflicted on one of your men, one in Suleima‘s body closed. I could see it clear as day. Like a there was a light that got blocked by a cloud. You know a body should not shine. Yet it does since someone had riddled her with bullets.

I will not stop until she is whole again." Her rapid movements had stopped still.

"There are only a few holes left.

You will be the last piece of the puzzle.

And I am not afraid of any consequences. For what do I do? I’m lost. I don’t belong here. Neither in heaven nor on earth. There is more out there then we are let to believe. I will find mine home." Her eyes fell down onto the scorpion in her hand with a faint smile. Perchance, she though, even an idea can be a home.

Lost in thoughts she carefuly raised the hand that held the scorpion. Really slowly it positioned it‘s defiant stinger before Ramala‘s forhead. Time seemed to have slowed down, and for a while the stinger hovered in mid air. Before the Mexican could do anything. Zulema stung him between the eyes. Just like she had done when she had walked upon the land of the living. It was her way of mocking people. Showing them that she had no respect for them. That they were repugnant.

And so just like the man before them collapsed with a hideous thud to the floor, the scorpion rolled itself together, it had given it’s life.

Since in the end this right there was Zulema‘s revenge too. The scorpion had passed on.

Although, her venom would not be fatal, she had taken closure. It had been for a greater good as it would leave the man weakend enough for the blond slay her last victim with ease.

The woman´s eyes fell to the motionless body on the floor for a second. Then, as she wanted to lay the scorpion to rest, she found her palm to be empty. The scorpion had ended in smoke. Had it never really existied in the first place? Perhaps it was all dream. In a dither she pushed that thought aside for now.

And Ramala

She grabbed him by the colar of his coat and dragged him to the room where her killing spree began.

The final coup

* * *

Ramala awoke on the floor of that death haunted room. Due to the scorpion poison within his body he had started sweat. And his eyes twitched franticly back and forth. Finally they met the woman´s. The blond could go on and tell him more how he had taken everything good from her and what not, but frankly she had already told him everything that mattered.

In all probability she wouldn´t have had time to do so either. Ramala had difficulties breathing, his body jerked every now and then and he sarted drooling. Listening absently to the sweet noises of approaching death, the woman drenched him in gasoline.

"You shall burn in the lake of fire for enterity." were the last word the destituted man heard before the flames took over his body.

He began to burn alive. Horrible screams of agony arose as his flesh was burned by flareing fire. Awfuly slow it his skin shrank due to the heat and opened up to the bloody raw flesh that lay underneath.

Then the Mexican´s joints began to contract. All the while the woman harkened in awe.

After some more minutes of horrendous screams the man´s organs started to shrink as well. Through the heat of the fire even his bones began to dehydrate. And with every crack of a fractureing bone, within the cloak of burning flesh, finally one more wound in Zulema´s body closed. It was a painfuly slow process but ultimetly his lungs collapsed and he was released from his torment.

Yet, although, dead Ramala would never wade to the other side to heaven. As a matter of fact he would never stop burning at all.

He kept on burning and at some point the crystals that formed his bones started to melt. Completly, the Mexican melted away in the fire where he ought stay stuck in the womans honey trap, banned to the lake of fire, forevermore.

The flames nurtured themselves at the mortal bodies within it the hotel but it kept the soul of Ramala. Her eyes, reflecting the flareing red flames, calmed down to a warm orange as the lake of fire before her set the desert around the hotel on fire.

The sand would burn and turn to glass. And the glas would finite break.(1) But the fire ought never burn out. And as long as the eternal fire would burn. Ramala would stay in hell on earth. The woman had promised him to burn in the lake of fire. And the world kneeled before the blond. She needed closure. It would grand her that. It finally saw that it had acted to hastly, that the woman´s path of understanding had just begun. It was enough for the world, her good intentions were cherished.

Alpha

* * *

The woman distanced herself from the bale she had caused. It was in the past. Thus, without looking back she stepped outside the front door.

The fire kept burning. Breathing as if hell was alive. It’s flameing tongues slithering around them, but those were the white lies of Ramala´s face. Emerging from the fire, screaming after the profane woman but to no avail. He was constrained to the flames. And the world outside had fallen silent, so hush like we imagine death to be, as the woman stepped over the doorsill into a new tomorrow.

Behind her the bird. Like a phoenix it seemed to rise anew from the ashed clouds of the burning fire behind them. She was freed of all her burdens.

Freedom was all around her and the bird flew away. Into the sky. Vanishing between the peacuful white clouds of smoke.

The woman began to walk upon the land of the living again, alone, but she ough be free to fly if she ever wanted to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)Breaking of glass is a good omen in some countries. It means that bad times and bad dreams are broken. It is time to appreciate the good things you have in life.
> 
> Ok this chapter might have been a bit confusing, mostly the fable. It´s very loosely based on their entire story although one or the other part was changed for the fable to work.
> 
> (There is more than one interpretation to the fable. In fact the characters are interchangeable. Maca was all first the bird (the victim) then the scorpion (the killer/the to be killed) and eventually the mouse. (the killer/judge))
> 
> The scorpion in this fable is Zulema who kinda keeps Maca safe and teaches her to "Fly again". And the bird is Macarena who learned to live in her new sureounding. But she got coltish and ended up in the washing machine or here in the river. We all know how their story ended. The moral of the story itself was explained. 
> 
> Hate has consequences and killing in the name of justice always brings you before someone who rights your wrongs. Inflict harm and be harmed...But the reason why Macarena died here was because it was a ´what could have been´scenario. If Maca had been killed instead of Zulema the end result would remain the same. One would avenge the other and be doomed. There is no end in suffering nor is there a clean line between killing and being killed. There is always someone bigger and more dangerous.


	9. Amid death we are encased by life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke 20:36  
> And they will never die again.  
> In this respect they will be equals to angels.  
> They are children [...] of the resurrection as they have risen from death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We walk our way in life and with time we experiance pain, setbacks, loss, happiness, success... But the more we live the more we understand that those experiances, both good and bad, inevitable belong to life. That we can‘t and should not hold on to something forever. And yes the hardest part is to accept that death too, inescapable, belongs to the circle of life. Nothing everlasting.  
> It‘s hard to realize even harder to accept but we can learn so much from it. To cherrish everything regardless how small or big even more. Everything is precious. And we should be far often thankful for what we have while we have it. It‘ll be gone much faster than we believe.  
> Thank you for our little eternity  
> 💔🤍
> 
> Some things to search maybe the colors that are mentioned and the symbolisms of smoke...:)  
> Thank you so much for reading🧡🧡

_Hindsight_

* * *

_Some things are more prone to end than others._

The woman was free. Yet, at the moment, she felt no desire to fly at all. Her heart, one half of a whole, was lost in the nostalgia of long forgotten days. It had left her alone to wander the world. But without her guideing lights. The scorpion and the bird. The blond ended up walking in circles.

It brought her back to the end. To the burning house, where she paused. Her tired eyes observed the sparks of the eternal fire rise up. Watching how the small red sparks met the far end of the night sky to join the golden stars up there. Lightening up the dark between them. Like fireflies they lapsed into death. And if it was only for the blink of an eye, before they were eventually enclosed by darkness completely, it tought her something. Something, she was not to keen to learn about.

And then, when the horizon was touched by the first rays of the sun, the woman continued to walk. The sky, dipped in shades of purples, reds and blues illuminated the path she had to take.

Every now and then on her walk, the blond would come across the well. The one, she had come across in her vision so long ago.

Oddly enough, the strange pull that the well had rediated returned. It pined for the woman to take a look inside. The blond didn´t fight the feeling. She walked to the edge, put her hands down and looked.

It was still filled by a deep black body of water. So ludicrous calm that her reflection was as clear as polished glass. But it was not the woman who looked back at her. There were no warm honey colored eyes, no happy dimpled smile, no. It was a bleak face that returned her look. Chipped and mucky skin and tired eyes that had seen, without fail, more than absolutely necessary. The face which looked back, although it felt like her, felt alien.

It was in fact her, more or less, as it was merely the shell of her past self. Marked by the signs of time, her sorrow her grief... all and yet, she had lived through nothing more than the rest of the world had. The only difference was the woman´s way of faceing the painful truth.

She wasn´t like the other people, though and so she had hid behind a safe mask to keep a safe distance from the truth.

And while, the blond hasn‘t been scared of the fall. That one was inevitable. She was incredibly fearfull of faceing the truth, of being unable to realign the broken pieces of her, on her own.

In the end that reputed path of hideing behind a white lie had broken her. Hence, blinded by her grief she had looked away. It was easier to ban emotiones that could possibly hurt her and created phantasmas to cope with them then to face the truth. Thus, in her twisted mind she had created the scorpion and the bird. A vain attempt, of s substitute, as she knew she would never get back Zulema, let alone over her.

All the while she was forming those ideas she was forgetting _the raison d'être._ The longer she hold on to the ghost of her lover, the more her reminiscence of that raven haired woman faded. Until Zulema was no more than a feeling.

And although she had not run astray, the blond had begun to totter. Her mask was crumbleing. At the end it wasn´t made of diamonds, but formed out of emotions meant to shield her. It was a delicate fassade not meant to last forever. And inevitably that maskerade, she had held up for so long, fell. Macarena following in it´s wake.

Ramala, had been right after all. The path of concealing the truth was no path to reach the peace of mind. Her delicate mask had shattered into a million shards of glass, as she finally tipped over and hit the stale ground below. _She was broken beyond retrieval._ (1)

Afflicted by that revelation she strode away. Walking on, branded by her past and present, the woman let her lazy gaze zone out. The mine of that broken face before her eyes. She was not sad anymore nor vengeful, just numb. And that was even worse.

Defeated by life the blond walked on, until the circle met it´s start. The spot where both worlds met. Her infinite path had brought her back to the river, where she had lain Zulema to rest. It was as calm as the well had been. But this time she didn´t dare to look inside.

Before the woman knew what was happening she stood amid the edge of the universe. Between the realm of the living and the dead. Alpha and omega.

She did understand, but she did not need to anyway. Because her dead lover, had become more than a feeling of hope at the end of her road. A piece of her had guided her all along. Now Macarena trusted in that feeling she had always felt . Here at the river it was stronger than ever. The woman couldn´t recall what made this place so different from the rest. Her memories were gone. But she knew that it was of an bigger importance.

And although the person that had caused that feeling was not walking among her world, the ghost of her had been watching the blond from the side lines. Keeping her on track. And therefor Macarena would live on.

All there was now, was a faint familiar melody that was ascenting from the river. Gently, she began to to hum along with that reassureing song.

_mmmhmmh mmmhmmh, mmmh mmmh mmh_

_mmmhmmh mmmhmmh, mmh mmh_

And suddenly right there in that moment, she felt safe. The vibrations of her vocal chords had set something free. Something that made the idea of falling, almost seem like flying. And she could make out a faint deep voice. Soft and warm, almost soporific. That told her to let go, to move on.

Zulema was right there. She´d been waiting, watching her love steadyly from the sidelines. Although, unable to cross them. At last, she did´t belong in the world of the living. Actually she was sure she hasn´t belonged there even before she died. People had misunderstood her, they had never tried to look beneath the surface. There had been only one who dared to break through it. And that had been more than enough for her. She had found her peace with it.

Now it was Macarena´s turn. Zulema would build her wings to fly if she needed to. And even though her lover could not see her due to the lack of an physical body. The raven haired invited her, takeing her by the remaining bits and pieces of her soul.

 _Fly with me, s_ he said.

And oh how that soothing voice made the woman want too fly.

Her guide

* * *

This invite was not about holding on or letting go but about understanding. The blond was send round and round in a circle so she could answer the question of, _why_. Why did the things happen, why to her, why her lover, why...

Ultimetly, " _why_ " seemed to be answered. The woman had fallen victim to herself, not the world. It had been her actions that made her to who she is now. Because it´s everyone playys the game of life for their own.

And Death once her enemy, the blond realized, did not need to be her ruin, or anyones really. It is all a matter of perspective and Death, she came to understand, is simply the perpetual circle of life.

Finally Macarena came to understand,

that even the year itself dies, at the last change of seasons, when winter finally falls over the world.

That you cannot hold on to something for forever.

That it’s a sickness to try and do so.

That Life is as inimitable and short-lifed as a moon flower. And even the utmost beautiful flower petal´s fate, once they had blossomed, is to wither.

And that she, just like everyone else, would have to let go at some point in time. No matter how delicite the subject of passing on may be.

At the very end on her journey Macarena came to terms with her blinded perspective of truth.

_Nothing is infinite._

With that revelation, albeit not happy, she had found the courage to rise up that twisted perception of life that had been anchored inside her mind. Courge in her case did not mean that the the blond wasn´t scared anymore, just that she was brave enough to go on.

Ready, to set her sails and travel the seven seas. Or fly above them. And if she needed to she was willing to bring everything to an end. And with it, the hurt in her heart and the pain of her scars, everything she had collected and pushed aside.

She was ready to leave the dream, she had been stuck in for the past months, for herself to live again. Perhaps she would even greet death perfectly happy as to persue anoter one. For what dreams might come with death is unbeknownst to us. And only those who accompany Death have the privilege to know. Macarena, was meant to find out.

Therefore she welcomed the voice’s offer. And it answered her.

_Come with me,_ _close your eyes and wade with me, into the breaking waves. You shall be washed away. Cleaned of all your woe. You ought rest. Come, listen to my song and walk. And I will be your watchman, keeping you company on the path you walk. Go, come with me, walk with me into the unknown._

With her last will Zulema let the bird return. She had liked Macarena´s interpretation of her better self as a bird. It felt fitting, they were versitile, but most importantly, they were _free_.

The bird that flew low over the river now, craseing the surface withits wings, was an Eagle. Zulema had chosen it because they represent courage, rebirth, and power.All of what her lover needed.  


Once the water had calmed again, the bird let it´s head fall back in order to fill the world with an happy squeal. Soon the two lovers would rise from their past to be reunited. And the stars on the canopy would looked down on them jealous of their new shine.

The eagle was overwhelmed by happiness, looked straight at Macarena. And the woman could see a tear of rejoice spilling over the rim of it´s dark marble like eyes. Eventually the teardrop reached the edege of the bird´s face and breaking through the polished glass surface of the river. Swallowing not only the tear but also the bird that had follwed it´s way. The eagle had drowned itself.  


To ensure that the butterfly effect was set in motion. A small change in the natural orders and it, most certainly, lead to a much bigger change. One flap and chaos could follow.

The single drop send a ring of water over the surface. Evenly it expanded and met the shore. A second one followed a bit more intense than the last one. Then a third one followed and soon. The intensity constantly swelled. Until, at some point it became to turbulent and the water spilled over the shore.

The single tear, not belonging to the realm of the living, was filling up the the desert, naturing it with water and nutriend matter. Lastly it enclosed Macarena. The water rose, and rose and rose reaching her calves. It threated her.  


And the blond knew that if there was a God he wouldn´t spare angels who had sinned. They would be banned.  


But the woman was no angel. She had no peaceful soul. Or sacred wings. The ones she had belonged to a bird. A budgie. She was one at heart. But still, those wings were not meant for swimming. The woman tried to swim in that steadily riseing water but she could not. As a matter of fact her wings weight her down just now.  Makeing those laws of a God apply to her after all. Perchance this was a her end. 

The question had changed. It was not what but where would she go- Because she belonged to neiter. Not to heaven nor to earth and not necessarly to hell. Frankly speaking was she nomansland. So were would she end up? Wherever Death would send her, she was ready. It actually didn´t matter to her as long as the feeling within her remained.  


Face looking up towards the gloomy sky. Macarena took in the surreal moment she had found herself in. She shut her eyes. In an attempt to distancing herself from the hurt she might encounter during her next journey. 

With a pose of sacrifice, her head tuened towars the sky and her arms outstreched. Macarena waded deeper into the water. She would welcomed death like an old friend. And as her body was enclosed by the water, she though of nothing. It was only when her head broke through the surface, when she began to drown, and her breath slowly escaped her lungs, that she was taken over by panic. And how could she not? When the pain slithered in to her body. Takeing over every pore. 

_Was this a dream? _ Macarena thought in doubt. No, it was to painful to be that. _Hurt_ , she remembered, _could not be experienced in a dream._ And it dawned on her then, as the water was extinguishing her weak flames. That this was peace... She was at the end of her road, if she wanted it to be. But for all that it hurt just as much as when she´d been at war. There was no definite end to suffering it seemed.  


Zulema saw her lover´s frustration and tried to keep her afloat. 

_Don´t fight it. The hurt. The burn. The darkness coming in._

The voice said, guiding her over to the other side. 

_It´s the gift of the living to feel so much. So don´t fight it. The light can only shine in the dark. Let it in. Let it wash over you. Consume you. Feel it. All of it. It simply means you are alive. And at the end of the night there´ll always be the light of day.  
_

Macarena gave in, and the less she faught the less it hurt. She welcomed the pain. The burn of her lungs. For once she did not hide from it. 

Thus, her skin, once covered with the dried blood of her unspeakable sins, was washed clean. Right there she repent. A nd just like scorpion, Macarena learned to breathe beneath the water.

On the other side Zulema´s face lit up. A smile crossed over her features. As she saw her lover succeeding. Soon they´d be reunited. 

_ Walk to me. She called. I can see. I am there. And if you trip and threat to fall I will be there too. I´ll be there, I will catch you when you fall.  _

Macarena followed the voice. Determined to reach the other side. Over the muddy floor, her feet roamed and and the longer she walked the more she felt her heart getting closer. Eventually, the blond walked up to the sandy shore. Like a godess she ascented from the water. She had reached the other side. 

Revelation

* * *

Unburdened she breathed again. And she started to cry. Arms still outstretched she looked up into the dawn of day, so reliefed she laughed and selflessly gave her tears to a bigger power. And suddenly it started pouring rain. Joining Macarena. This time it were no acidic tears that tortured her. No. This time the sky seemed to have found reason for peace in this time of transition. Almost like a silent peace offering the rain granted her comfort. Buring out her fire, suffocating the last bits of evil fire within her. And she could feel the last pieces of rage leave.  


And while her mind and soul were still arriving at paradise, her physical body remained on the other side. It was floating for a moment longer before her body finally disolved into ash. It´s little grains of dust following the rivers currents. _The flow of life._ Macarena too, was at peace now. And the rain calmed down to a drizzle.  


It had caused drops to creep down over the blond´s arms, over her hands, smoothly finding its way down to her calves. Soaking through the white linen. Then, at the end of her calves the drops merged into peaceful streams that formed a puddle by her feet. This time it was clear. There were no remains of her past. She was new. Cleaned of sin.

At the same time in front of Zulema the blond´s frame started to smoke of the heat of the loseing fire and the cold of the rain. The white smoke rose up to the clouds. joining the inhabitans of the sky. Macarena had to die. Everything had to. Nothing can live without transience. So maybe the clouds in the sky are more than just dust, grime and water. At least this one was a soul. 

She dissolve before the raiven haired only to realign her soul at Zulema´s side. Because the soul can exist without matter but the body itself can not. It had to be exchanged to exist in paradise. It was a connection to the other world, and that wasn´t meant to be. 

Macarena stood there opposite her in the same manner she had walked into Paradise. Not daring to open her eyes just yet. Afraid she would see something she did not want to. "I´ll go." Had been the woman´s decidion. It had been her own free will to  welcomed death like a friend. And now she had to find closure in that. Regardless of the doubts that had  returned. It had been a final decison.

At some point she had to look. And when she let her head fall back to face her new reality, it was not death who greeted her. It was Zulema.  A safe haven where she could lay down her anchor anew.

Macarena had a feeling that she knew the woman. There was not much more. Besides small sparks like the fireflys only little snippets of memories. And a name. 

_ Suleima. _ She breathed. 

The two of them had to start somewhere. A name was a start and that had to be enough for now. Zulema endowed her lover an honest smile. That said more than a dream could have ever done.

_Easy tiger. Right here we can stop. We could stay frozen in this instant. Forgetting the turning of time. Standing still, steady like the stars on the firmament. My love, we can have it all, if only we want to. We have the world at our feet and the sky holds no limits for us. We have all the time in the universe. And I promise you a piece of me. Even if, all I have is stories. But I guard your memories too, they will be return to you, as I tell you the story of us, of me and you. Let´s defy the order of the world together. Let this be our little infinity.  
_

The blond understood, they spoke clearer with their bodies than with words and so Macarena respond with a dimpled smile. One thing was certain, Zulema wouldn‘t let her look back to the grey stream. She´d keep her safe, and wouldn´t allow her to hold on to the yesteryear. Not now, that the they coud stray from the sidelines and explore their realm anew. The world was their oyster. And they were free.  


Omega

* * *

Grassy eyes travelled up, loseing their gaze from the others lips to meet earth colored ones. A hand reached out dareing to unite clean skin. It was a featherlight touch on Macarena´s hand. Barely there yet, close enough to send shivers down her spine. It was the scorpions hand. And it sparked the not yet faded smoke on fire again. All that had been left was the melody and a name but when the hand had tenderly came in conntact with her skin it had lit up the fire anew. And Macarena asked her to tell her their story. Zulema obeyed, she showed her the most important memory of all. The simple touch of electric skins had triggering a little déjà vu through which she relived one of a million invaluable moments.  


It was them on a little patio. Macarena was washing the raven hair of Zulema, while she confessed to her.  


_ Rubia, we walk our way in life and with time we experiance pain. But the more we live, the more we understand that those experiances inevitably belong to life. That we can‘t and should not cling to something fleeting as life, or a set sight on whatever, forever. I´ve been running away for all my life. Away from my mother, away from the man she sold me too, away from prison, and eventually from you. At first, from you... Because I was scared. Scared because I knew what life is, what it gives and how it takes from you without mercy. I was scared to confide in you, for love never brought me any good. But I came to realize that with you it was different. Never in my life....not since I can think...well I never felt at home. But our time together...it was the closest thing I ever had to a home. And there is no need to run when you have a home, Maca. So I stopped. _

Macarena had been running aswell. For the justice, Zulema didn´t experiance in life. In the end for both of them.

They might have lost part their story along the way but. But that moment, the feeling it spawned, was enough. She was a blank canvas and Zulema the finished painting. With all it´s flaws and shine. She would share her colors and together they would paint another one.

Macarena was ripped out of her thoughts when the hand in her palm tugged slightly on hers. _Come with me. Walk with me into the unknown._ The gesture asked. And Maca squeezed the other woman´s hand with a smile. _I´ll follow you. Until the end of days._ It said.

So together as one they entered into this new chapter of life in death.

Paradise, Macarena grinned, looked a lot like the garden she had encountered in the house. They were walking through neatly arranged flower patches with windig paths, animals of all kinds eyed the new cohabitant. While produceing the most wonerful melodies of life. Everything was tinted in the brightest colors, and the trees carried the richest fruits. There was the rythmic noise of plunging waves on the shore. She was met by a soft breeze, as the souls of those they had lost along the way were greeting her cheerfully. Her father, her mother, Sole, Altagracia....they were all their by her side. And the sun smiled down on them warming their skin. Life was good.

The two spend the day talking, catching up, exploring, relearning, remembering. And when the night ventured out, they walked down to the beach. On the was towards the breaking waves the sand tickled them between their toes. Although, not for long. As soon enough they came to a hold on the shore, where their feet were freed of the stubborn grains of sand.

For a moment in time, they gazed at the horizon silently admireing the setting sun. It was the oddly domestic instant, that let Macarena rested her head on zulemas shoulder and the older woman rested hers on top of blond locks. Their hands found each other on their own account, enlaceing their fingeres. Right there their fire was shineing brighter than the glowing ball of light on the horizon. _I_ _t was their gift. To light up the dark between each others heart._ Macarena broke the silence, but not the magic of the moment. She asked her lover, adoring the sinking sun.

_“Why did people love the soul of me but feared the ghost of you?”_

_“Because you were a white lie. And I the painful truth my dear.”_

and she kissed the blond head on her shoulder affectionate, deeply content with the reality they found themselves in now. Together at last. After a lifetime of running, one for justice one simply away from life. But now they had reached the finish line. There was no need to run anymore. _Perchance even an idea can be a home. The blond´s thought resonated in her. Her home, the idea, had been a person all along.  
_

And so it was that two opposites, came to rest in each other’s arms, as lovers, in death as they had been in love. Together they ran their world away. They had managed to meet in a common place. And in some messed up way they had learn to love unconditionally. Love the other, love life and themselves. They didn´t have to chase after happiness anymore either as it stood right in front of them. They came back to the start, back to the caravan. In the end, that small home was all they ever needed. It´s where they´ve been feeling the lightest. The very place where they fallen for the other, where they had found their peace. And until their end of days they ought wander the lands of their own realm by each other´s side. With the caravan amid it all. The center of life. Their constant in both life and death. Their second home. Where they lived on laughed and loved untroubled. Death for them was life ad infinitum.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)Metaphorically, broken glass can also refere to broken or currupted relationships. And even though broken glass can´t be fixed, it can be melted and reshaped thus transforming into something new. 
> 
> Ok lemme elaborate😂  
> For those you didn’t quite get it.  
> The house was Macarena´s brain/mind. At least part of it.  
> And oviously the bird and the scorpion is an metaphor for Zulema. The two of them were inevetbly interviened. The house and the animals, in the end Zulema lived on inside her head. "She was merely an idea."  
> It was nothing more than Macarena‘s own grief, creating some copeing mechanism.  
> She was her doubt, her understanding, everything and nothing. And when the bird was away she was trying to close her eyes before the truth more than ever. And when they returned they were her backbone. The reason why Maca did not remember Zulema was simply because her brain shut it out and created the animals as a substitude. To Keep her alive somehow. And the soul she let fall into Macarena was her own. It had stayed protected by the scorpion and the bird. Keeping it safe and letting it go whenever she was about to loose herself completey.
> 
> Zulema has had such an huge impact that she became part of the vengeful Macarena. She adapted both personalities of Zulema her present and her past. The bird her present better Zulema and the scorpion her past.  
> That’s why at the killings mostly the scorpion was in action.  
> Her mind manipulated herself in order to do justice for her lost love, and justify her deeds. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading 💕  
> Say Hi on Twitter if you want to:)  
> @ T_o_j_a


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